The Morning after the night before
by Sir Aethelred
Summary: Life before the legendary events of the Outlaw Robin are usually hazy give authors a large amount of license but this one I hope is slightly more accurate to the stories we know and love and enjoyable. so sit back with a large mug of tea and enjoy.


Robin gently slid one of the arrows out of his belt quiver. The cold morning air was helping to clear his head from the vast amount of alcohol he had consumed the night before.

'It was worth it' he told himself as he slowly laid the shaft onto the string and then softly ran on of his fingers across the goose feather vanes used to stabilize the arrow during flight.

Snow had began to fall early that morning and as he pulled the bow back to his ear the fifty paces of grass between himself and the target had a light dusting of snow.

'Perfect' he thought to himself before loosing the arrow across the outer ward and with a gentle thud it hit the target. The light breeze had pushed it slightly off course but nothing to worry about. It had still hit the centre of the target.

He drew a second arrow and proceeded to set himself for another shot. He found his mind wondering back to the previous night. Had it been foolish to try and trick her into action?

'No' he told himself firmly, 'It was the only way'

He pulled the arrow back this time correcting for the wind when he felt a presence behind him. He loosed the arrow slightly quicker than he would have liked. The presence seemed to be emanating a cold even greater than that of the winter morning. The arrow seemed further off this time, as it hit the target no more than a hands width away from the very heart of the target. Most archers would have been thrilled to pull off such a shot especially with this thudding headache but alas Robin was a perfectionist and was still angry with himself as he turned to face the figure.

She was clothed in a long grey cloak that swept the ground as the breeze gently waved it like a flag. Even though he had planned this for weeks he still felt nervous about her great anger that was dripping off he.

He turned and picked another arrow out of his quiver. She drew closer until she was standing just inside the corner of his eye as he lined up the next shot.

'Who was she then?' she asked in a surprisingly cool tone.

'Who?' He had decided to be ignorant. Try and get her normally careful mind to slip up.

'That girl you were with at the banquet last night.'

That was putting it mildly he thought. She was in fact his cousin and had been planned at his last visit down to his uncle's castle near Oxford. They had deliberately been incredibly flirtatious towards each other and barely left each other's side all evening. To top of this the deliberately poorly hidden kiss they had snuck just before heading off to bed was probably enough to confirm most peoples doubts. That had been particularly hard for him, hence the vast amounts of ale he had had to consume.

'Oh you mean Matilda,' he turned his back on her to hide his smile. He placed the arrow on the string and pulled it back pausing to glance out of the corner of his eye at the figure to gauge how she was taking it. But she was looking down range at the target and all he could see was her pale skin with wisps of blonde hair flowing across it. He looked back down towards the target and tightened his musicals preparing to fire.

'How could you Robin?' she had taken him by surprise and he slacked the bow slightly but kept his eyes firmly on the target.

'We had an agreement. I thought you loved me. We were going to wait. Wait until the day that we can be together happily.'

'Is that a hint of jealousy I hear,' he immediately cursed himself for that. His arrogance of finally getting one over on her had crept a little to far in and had forgotten his true target.

He pulled back the bow again ready to fire for the second time when he heard I a slight sob from her. His heart fell to the depths of the earth at that moment. This had gone to far. All he had wanted was a confession that they had feelings for each other after all these years of competition.

'I love you Robin. But how could…' her word trailed off into the wind.

Robin loosed the arrow, which flew high over the ward before puncturing the heart of the target.

'I love you to,' he confessed. It was like having a great weight taken from him. He gently rapped his arms around her. For a moment she resisted before falling into his arms.

After a few moments their eyes met and despite the small tear that was making its curved path down her cheek he saw the spark of joy he had once known in her.

Their lips met and for the first time Robin felt like he could shoot a thousand arrows and never get tired.

And as the light breeze whistled in the trees and the snow started to fall happiness entered their hearts.

Authors Note:

I'm starting to scare myself that I can only right love stories at the moment. I hope you enjoyed it and that you got some of the rather pathetic metaphoric undertones, which I tried this time.


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